


of inverted crosses

by gameamab (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffeeshop, Alternate Universe - Hipsters, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/gameamab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starbucks goes on strike and Dean needs caffeine. There’s a little cafe nearby. Pastel-goth!Castiel, office-worker!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [pastelcastiel](http://www.pastelcastiel.tumblr.com) and [octopifer](http://www.octopifer.tumblr.com) for the pastel!cas trend on tumblr. I probably changed the writing style like three times and I apologize in advance. Part 2 should be up soon. Un-Beta’d as always.
> 
> EDIT 18/3/2013  
> I guess I should make it clear with the way I wrote Cas, I based him off the canon end!verse fallen-hippie!Cas because that was the closest thing in canon I could draw from without ruining any characterization.

He’s being sat on.

He doesn’t know his exact feelings about this because he is currently still half asleep, but Dean is putting his money on he won’t mind.

Opening his eyes there is a very bright eyed Cas, dressed, if you can call it that, in an open green and black plaid shirt and his favourite pink satin panties.

‘Hello Dean,’ he said before ducking down to kiss Dean in an attempt of waking him up and pulling off just as Dean started to kiss back.

‘Tease,’ Dean mumbles, rubbing his eyes, which trails off into a groan as Cas grinds down against him as he clambers off.

‘Come on, Sleeping Beauty, fakecon, non-diary nutella and banana no egg French toast with Demon’s Blood. Aren’t you hungry?’

Dean’s stomach rumbles in response and while Cas’ offer of a very decent vegan breakfast sounds wonderful, it’s Sunday and 7:30 and no one is actually awake at 7:30.

He pulls a pillow over his head and mumbles into it.

‘Didn’t catch that,’ Cas sing songs.

Dean huffs and throws off the pillow, sitting up. ‘I said, can’t you bring it in here? Breakfast in bed? And can I have coffee.’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’ Cas pokes Dean in the ribs, who squirms, but Cas so pad off to the kitchen and Dean can hear the percolator going and all he can think as he stretches, yawning so wide it would put a lion to shame, how did I get so lucky?

//

About a month and a half earlier would be the answer if he’d wondered when did I get so lucky.

Dean would have been taking his car, but in Seattle, it had a high tendency to rain and or snow when it was any months between late November and Early March, and so hail the size of your face had fallen and shattered his windshield.

And it was a disappointment that he couldn’t eat or drink on the bus which meant Dean couldn’t have his coffee before he caught his last resort to work and he was already late.

Maybe he could pop out to Starbucks at lunch and settle for office coffee for now. Just this once.

God I seriously need a coffee machine, Dean thought, stepping off the bus.

//

But the bad news didn’t end there.

The first thing Dean found out was that 1) everyone had already drunk the coffee and 2) the percolator was bust.

Great.

//

When Dean finally got out for lunch break, he was jitterier than he would be if his jacket was on fire.

When he rounds the corner of Pike and 1st, he was met with a loud group of unruly hipsters crowded outside Starbucks, moustache necklaces flying and soon there will be tears in vintage wool jumpers and plenty of photos on Instagram to prove it.

Dean’s tapped a girl in a red beret on the shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

And as cliché as it was possible, she’s got thick rimmed glasses on, but by the way they enlarged her eyes, Dean guessed they are actually her glasses.

‘The baristas are on strike. I have no idea why,’ she shrugged and turned back to watching the crowd.

Dean sort of upside down smiled at this and wonders off.

This was his first lunch out of office in months and the universe decided for it to happen.

And Dean doesn’t argue with the universe.

He had just huffed away, when Dean’s eyes locked on a canvas awning down a side street and there was a chalkboard out front boasting homemade vegetarian quiche and fair trade coffee in not so many words.

If Dean wandered around any longer he would be late back and Zach would have his head on a plate, no matter how fabulously he had worked so far and how highly he was praised along with promises of raises and better offices.

He sighed and down the alley he went.

Inside it was warm, a few stray people of the decidedly non-mainstream persuasion who must of had the same idea as him with their current caffeine conduit out if order until further notice.

But the place was small, only a half a table width wider than a bistro.

He admired the photography and artwork adorning the walls as he walks, knocking a chair out of place and tripping a little.

The counter was down the back of the 12ft or so, and standing behind it, barely visible behind a behemoth of a coffee machine, was a guy.

He then twirled around, giving Dean the back if his head

As backs of heads go it was pretty, in a ruffled, I just rolled out a bed but I’m still awake enough to handle heavy machinery and hot milk kind of way. His ears were stretched about half an inch by black circles.

He turned around and looked at Dean with electric blue sloped eyes and in the extra second longer of eye contact, Dean, he forgot to cover the few extra steps.

He cleared his throat and does so.

The barista smiled, lips stark against five o’clock shadow. ‘And what was your preferred caffeinated poison good sir?’

The sides of his head are shaved and bits of his sticky uppy fringe (Dean remembered it’s called a quiff) have been bleached and tinted a mint green. He was wearing a sweater that was an odd mix of paisley and floral (again in green) and were it on anyone else, Dean would have wanted to burn out his eyes, but for some weird reason it just worked on this guy.

Said guy ahemmed. ‘Good sir? Are you going to order something or merely admire my attire?’

‘Sorry,’ Dean amended, ‘umm, what can you recommend?’

‘Well I can do all the basics, latte, americano, espresso and the ilk, and I’m working on getting some of the Starbucks stuff right but if you’re not after coffee, I’ve got more tea than The East India Trading Company grows in a year and more varieties than I can list in one breath so,’ the barista shrugged, ‘you name it, generally speaking, I can make it.’

Dean smiled. ‘Surprise me.’

‘Like a genie, your wish my command.’ He turned around and stated pressing buttons and Dean just glanced about for a place to sit.

If whatever this guy makes is good, Dean considered, this place might become my new Starbucks.

He was about to reach for his phone to check the time and the possible projection of wifi from somewhere when the barista returned with a tall handled glass filled near to the brim with bright, translucent red.

‘I call it Demon’s Blood. It’s rooibos tea with vanilla and guarana,’ he explained, ‘Sorry if you expected coffee but this was a lot more fun to make. But the guarana is caffeine so it’s just as good,’ he smiled.

‘So ah, how much?’

‘If you like it, pay for it, if you don’t, why bother?’

Dean smiled again. ‘Thanks,’ and blew away some of the curling steam, ripples rolling across the surface.

And feeling a little pressured because the barista was still standing there, Dean took a sip and regretted it immediately, almost burning off his tongue but after they recovered, it’s tart and sweet, liquid apple pie minus the pastry and Dean almost didn’t want to swallow.

Of course he had to so he did and smiled. ‘That was really nice. Thank you.’

‘No problem. It’s my favourite thing to drink. Mind if I sit down?’

Dean was nodding before he processes what the guy had said.

‘I’m Cas by the way,’ he said, slipping into the seat opposite.

‘Dean.’ He extended a hand and Cas looked confused for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to do with it, but he did eventually shake Dean’s hand. Cas’ wrist jangled faintly with the weight of a lot of bracelets, most of them tangled up and worn, some almost breaking.

‘So, Dean, what do you do?’

‘I’m a sales manager for Singer Corp-’ and Cas was yawning, hand covering his mouth and the noise was louder than necessary or real. Dean narrowed his eyes. ‘What?’

‘I knew it. Another chucklehead in a monkey suit.’

‘I’m not a chucklehead in a monkey suit!’ Dean defended

Cas tilted his head, lips pressed into a line, shrugged and made a considering noise in his throat. ‘Hmmm, you are,’ he nods, ‘But look on the bright side.’

‘What bright side?’

‘At least you’re a cute chucklehead in a monkey suit.’

Dean actually properly blushed at that. And held back a smile and went in again for his glass of tea, which had now cooled to a drinkable temperature.

‘So how long have you been a sales manager? ’ Cas waved a pair of jazz hands.

Dean pouted in thought, ‘About eight months ago. They say I could be senior sales manager in a few short years.’

Cas nodded. ‘How many short years?’

‘My boss said up to ten but probably less. You don’t really care do you.’

Cas shook his head. ‘Not in the slightest.’

‘Well, what about you, how long have you- fuck!’ Dean spat. He had just noticed the clock and he was going to be late if he didn’t leave right that second.

‘That’s a bit personal don’t you think?’ Cas asked, smirking.

Dean laughed a little, standing and pulling out his wallet. ‘How much?’

Cas sat there considering for a moment and Dean was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet.

‘Buy me a drink sometime and we’ll call it even.’

Dean nodded and smiled and then making sure his satchel was over his shoulder, he dashed off.

//

Dean went back the next day, cheating a little and leaving five minutes early so he gets as much time as he can muster in the café.

He passed the chalkboard again, which was still offering quiche and coffee and he wondered if Cas did weekly specials or if he had forgotten to change it for today.

Cas was dressed a little more strangely than on Monday; studded cut offs, peach velour top with a cream bow, denim shorts with more studs and Doc Martens.

He ordered Demon’s Blood, asked if Cas was going for the punk look and sat down but when Cas moved to sit with him, he had other people to deal with, one’s who actually wanted food.

They didn’t get to talk.

//

When Dean came by Thursday, and he had gone every day that week so far, it was certainly busier than the day before and there were extra staff, a red headed girl in rounded glasses and an undercut in a peach floral dress and another guy with just before the shoulder length brown hair wearing a marron jumper with a pipe stitched in and a sentence in French underneath it which read, if what little Dean remembered of high school French was accurate, this is not a pipe.

These two were waiting tables and almost didn’t see him until the jumpered one walked in front of him and gave him the evil eye.

Luckily, he reached the counter without getting cursed and Cas was behind the counter making coffee and tea and plating up pastries and being very busy.

But when he turns around his face splits into a grin. ‘Afternoon monkey suit.’

‘Hey, Cas.’

Cas looks bashful. ‘Awww, you remembered my name, how sweet. Also can you step one step to the right?’

Dean looks at him. ‘Why?’

Cas purses his lips. ‘Generally, I would say because I said so but seriously, it’s because my brother is behind you and needs to grab table twelve’s mocha and latte.’

Dean turns his head and indeed jumper guy is standing behind him, scowling. Dean steps off to the side.

Cas’ brother takes the coffees and goes toward the table and Dean steps back in front of the counter.

‘Don’t mind Gabriel, he’s just pissed off I had to call him in today. What can I do you for?’

But Dean didn’t answer. He was staring at Cas’ clothes; baby pink jumper with an inverted cross in the centre and a rose dotted head band which looked a little silly with his quiff and green streaks but Dean could live with it.

‘What?’

‘What are you wearing?’

Cas looked at his jumper and pulled at the hem. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘It’s pink.’

Cas slaps Dean with what looks very much like a version of his brother’s infamous to everyone that knows him bitch face. ‘Dean if you are about to say that pink is for girls, I will never talk to you ever again understand me? It is a medieval attitude and I will not tolerate it.’

Dean smiled to himself, ‘I was just going to follow that up with you look lovely.’

Cas scrutinised him. ‘You’re toeing the line there.’

Dean ignored him ‘Could I get some Demon’s Blood.’

Cas laughed, their gendered colours argument put to rest for the moment. ‘Have I got you hooked?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Give me a minute. Swamped with customers.’

Dean sat down in the same seat and waited.

The girl in the floral dress sidled up. ‘Hey Cas!’ he turned around. ‘This the guy you were talking about?’

Cas rolled his eyes but nodded, turning his head back down the machine.

‘Well you were right. He is cute.’ She gave Dean a once over before going on to pick up some cups and a wipe down a nearby table.

Cas rolls his eyes again when the girl insisted on staring at Dean as he came over, Demon’s Blood in hand. ‘Forgive Anna’s rudeness,’ he comments louder than required and Dean was taken by Cas’ pants.

Which aren’t pants really but black lace shorts that peaked out just from under the jumper.

‘Nice pants,’ he mumbled with a smile on his face, eyes downcast.

Cas said nothing but shuffled close, back bent a little awkwardly. ‘I close up at five.’

He pulled back smiling, offered a single wink and pulling on his jumper, turns and goes back to behind the counter.

Dean picked up his tea and wondered absently how early he could cut work.

//

Cas was sitting on the sidewalk, stupidly long legs spread wide, his shorts ridden up like underwear and his high soled feet planted on the edge of the road, a pearl beaded bag next to him, the clutch spilling a box and a lighter.

Between two of Cas’ fingers was a lurid magenta cigarette about three quarters through and leaking thin strings of smoke against gravity.

He brightens obviously when Dean comes close. ‘Was starting to think you’d forgotten me.’

‘I doubt anyone could do that.’ Dean raised an eyebrow seeing the cigarette. ‘You smoke?’

Cas nods. ‘You?’ He offered what was left of it to Dean who shook his head.

‘They’re rose,’ Cas pressed but Dean just shook his head again and Cas shrugged. ‘Your loss,’ he says, taking a long drag and breathing out, the smoke mixing with the condensation until they were one and the same. He dropped it, wriggles a foot over and stomped.

He looked up and reached out a hand. ‘Help me up?’

Dean laughed once to himself and pulled Cas to standing, charms on his many bracelets to brush chill on Dean’s wrists. Cas stumbled around as if drunk or had transfigured into a new born fawn.

Cas pulled down on his shorts then the jumper in turn before bending over backward a little to pick up a beige coat that he had been sitting on and pulled it on, patting down the pockets.

Dean also noted Cas’ socks, which were frilled, peaking over the top white creepers, Dean was sure they were called.

‘What are you wearing? And I mean that generally.’

Cas raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s called fashion. Look it up.’ Dean laughed. Cas smiled at the sound. ‘So where are you taking me?’

Dean shrugged. ‘Depends.’

Cas cocked his head. ‘On what?’

‘If I’m also expected to buy you dinner.’

‘Are you hiding a box of chocolates under that monkey suit jacket of yours?’ Cas asked.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. ‘Are you going to be this cocky all night?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘If you like it or not.’

Dean sighed. It has been a while since he’d been on a date….if that was what it was and he had missed banter. Becky and Garth at work weren’t the same and he barely saw Sam. He was off being a fancy lawyer with the girl of his dreams. ‘Did you wanna pick the place because with you being…you…I don’t want to make a choice and then you being all, “the ocean is less current than this.”’

Cas’ eyes crinkled as he laughed. ‘Where did you get that one from?’ he asked, voice shaking and a little high.

‘I know, I’m hilarious,’ Dean grinned and Cas recovered.

Quiet fell.

‘So you pick?’

Cas rolled his eyes, pulled Dean’s hand out of his pocket and pulls him along to 2nd, stepping half way into the street and pulling a cab and then pulling Dean inside.

And all while Cas was babbling at the driver on where to go and other randomness, he didn’t let go of Dean’s hand, rubbing small circles into his palm while he spoke.

//

It was a hole in the wall.

At least that was what Dean thought when he first got out of the cab.

Cas had to let go of Dean’s hand to pay the driver and he jumped when the cold hit his palm so he shoved his hands into his suit pockets.

When the barista re-joined him, he didn’t force him to bring out his hand, but rather slung an arm through Dean’s.

‘Lead on,’ Cas mumbled.

‘So what is this place?’ Dean asked, pushing on the door and walking down with Cas in tow some dimly lit stairs.

‘I found it when I was wondering. I do that. I just go places.’

‘With anything?’

‘No. Just by myself. I never tell stories or take pictures. They are my adventures.’

Dean nodded without really understanding.

Cas pushed on the door at the bottom of the stairs and it opened up into one of the most odd public spaces Dean had ever seen. It looked more like someone’s house and for a second almost considered it to be just that.

There was a bar and a stage and a wall covered in worn and yellowed books, some of them without spines. Also tables scattered everywhere were all different and so were the chairs pushed under them.

‘This is like home,’ Cas said, tugging Dean to a table, unlocking their arm, pulling off his coat, hooking it over his chair and sitting down.

He turned to the bar and back to Dean, a faux suave smile on his face. ‘Drink?’

Dean was still pulling out his chair but he sifts through it for his wallet before dumping it by the feet of his chair. ‘Sure. What having?’

‘Hmmm, surprise me.’

Dean sighs, exasperated but it wasn’t angry. ‘Gotta give me a little more to work with than that, Cas.’

‘Seriously, I don’t care,’ Cas insisted and Dean mouths OK but when he passes Cas, he tugs him down and hisses in his face, ‘If you get me a fucking appletini, I will murder your family.’

But Dean wasn’t actively concentrating on Cas’ words more his voice and his breath washing over his face. Cas smelled like rose but also like something sweet and as Dean walked toward the bar wanted absently to kiss the man just on the principle to see what he tasted like.

In the end he got beer. For both of them.

And it looked a little silly for Cas, dressed all pink and rosy to be drinking beer.

And another.

And another.

And then they remembered that is was bad to drink on an empty stomach so Dean ordered a dip platter because that was what they did there. That and bruschetta but Cas couldn’t eat that because he was a vegan.

Dean pondered for a second while chewing a bite of pita bread and beetroot what in Heaven’s name he found attractive in the jackpot of hipsterity sitting across from him, who was taking a pull of his fourth bottle of beer.

‘So you wanted to know how long I’ve had the café?’ Cas asked suddenly and it threw Dean back into his headspace of a day ago.

‘Yeah, I still do.’

Cas smiled. He does a lot of that, Dean noted. ‘Less than six months. I have to say I’m really surprised of how much business I get. Also that I got a yuppie in.’

‘Yuppie?’

Cas smacked Dean’s hand lightly. ‘By which I mean you. Cut suit and two tone shirt.’

Dean straightened his lapels, ‘what’s wrong with my suit?’

Cas smirked. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

‘Expect more of us.’

‘Oh no,’ Cas feinted shock, ‘what have you done?’

‘I kind of raved about Demon’s Blood until everyone was looking at me funny and asking for some of what I was on.’

Cas smiled. ‘So am I going to get you into trouble?’

Dean narrowed his eyes. ‘How?’

‘Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend or something you’re expected to come home to?’

Dean shook his head. ‘Nope. Been single a while now.’

‘OK then. Good.’ Cas had a drink.

‘Why?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? It means that I don’t have to worry about you cheating on me,’ Cas grinned and Dean wants to kiss it off him.

‘What about you? You single?’ Dean asked.

‘If I wasn’t do you think I’d be here? Let alone suggest this little outing?’ 

‘Just making conversation.’

For the next two hours the two of them discussed, over a seemingly endless bowl of wedges, what they did at college, (‘Business. Obviously.’ ‘Was that what you wanted to do?’ ‘I was going to become a mechanic so engineering was my major at first. My dad didn’t see the point is wasting money on a fancy degree that taught the worst way of doing something but my brother went on to college to do law so I thought, ‘I’m the older brother, I need to do good too,’ so I swapped them around. What about you?’ ‘Theology. I got my masters end of last year.’ ‘Minor?’ ‘Barista.’) during which Dean also found of that Cas was short for Castiel, the angel of Thursday and Dean said that his mother had named him after her mother, thoughts on the war in Iraq, (Dean wasn’t really that fussed, Cas thought they needed to grow up and stop throwing shit at each other) and family.

That part of the conversation was mostly Dean going on about Sam Winchester, his big wig lawyer brother from Stanford, married with a white picket fence and that time that he and him had had spent so much time in their dad’s Impala, which had become Dean’s when he passed away, looking for their mom who’d disappeared one night and reappeared three months and a massive road trip all over America later. She hadn’t talked about it then and by Dean’s reckoning, never would.

Things got awkward when Dean asked Cas about his family.

He said, in as few words as possible, he had a lot of brothers that fought a lot and that their father was a writer.

Dean got the message he didn’t want to talk.

‘So,’ Cas cleared his throat, ‘what’s going on here?’

‘Going on?’

‘You’ve gotten me reasonably drunk,’ and as if to make a point, Cas took a sip of then his seventh beer, ‘spilled your life story, gotten some of mine. I think your Demon’s Blood debt is repaid.’

Dean laughed.

‘But there is something about you that I really like.’

Dean pouted. ‘My rugged good looks and boyish charm, financial security or impeccable taste in hot beverages?’

Cas smiled at his beer before his eyes flicked up. ‘I think it’s more of the fact that underneath the boyish manly thing you’ve got going on, I’m almost willing to bet my life savings that you’re a screamer.’

Dean nearly choked on his own tongue at the words and the blatant heat in Cas’ eyes and that was not where he expected that evening to go, not at all, but that being said, it wasn’t as if Dean was going to say no.

He wanted to grin or laugh but he just swallowed all that down and said, as clearly and unwavering as he can muster given the fact that Cas had hit him with the biggest and most obvious come on in the history of everything, ‘Would you like to find out?’

And Cas’ grin became predatory as he gets up, grabs his coat, and stands facing the door, shoulder to shoulder with Dean, looking down, and walking off, pulling on the beige lump in his hands as he goes.

Dean almost tripped out his chair getting up.

Neither of them made eye contact until they reached the stairs and even then with Cas one step higher than Dean and the length of a breath between them before Cas tugged on Dean’s hair to pull him forward and kissed him.

It was more like a punch to the mouth, Dean’s head knocking back against the wall but he didn’t really care at the time because Cas was still pulling on his hair, with both hands now and Dean knew his follicles would be hurting the next morning but he really didn’t care.

His hands, which started out over Cas’ jumpered shoulders, had slid under the thin wool and Dean then learned that Cas didn’t wear a shirt under his jumpers. Or at least the thin ones anyway because he was able to press his fingers into the dimples at the bottom of his spine and stroke along the curve.

Dean was trying to keep the kisses stretched out and slow, but not soft in the slightest, just deep and slick to the point where they couldn’t breathe.

Well, he was certainly getting the latter.

Cas was biting at his mouth, one hand still in his hair, the other pushing at his suit jacket which was getting stuck on Dean’s shoulder and then his arm before Cas started attacking first his tie and then the buttons on his shirt, tracing along Dean’s collarbone before scratching and Dean groaned at that.

‘There’s only,’ kiss, ‘one question,’ kiss, ‘left,’ kiss, ‘to answer?’ Cas gasped out.

Dean just groaned again and piled hope upon hope that it sounded something like ‘What’s that?’

And the kissing and the biting and the scratching all stopped. Cas pulled back, the storm blue of his eyes barely visible with his pupils blown wide, staring at Dean’s mouth before looking up without tipping his head, a smirk growing on his lips as he did so.

He leant in, his breathing hot against Dean’s ear, who shivered. ‘Your place or mine?’

Dean huffed out a single puff of air in a soundless laugh. ‘Yours.’

//

It was a taxi ride Dean never wanted to go through again.

Partly because he had never been harder in his life and partly because their driver was acting as if he could read their thoughts.

Or at least read what a an askew headband with messy hair and a wrongly buttoned shirt meant.

They sat as close as was decent, their sides pressed together and one of Cas’ hands wandered onto Dean’s thigh and squeezed and then crept higher and higher until Dean couldn’t stop his face feeling hot and wasn’t sure if he was breathing.

//

When they finally reached Cas’ apartment block, Dean threw some money at the driver, probably way too much and followed Cas in, who had just gotten the door open.

After stumbling in, Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and tugs him toward the elevator, pressing buttons with more force than necessary and near falling into the metal box once it arrived on the ground floor.

Dean was expecting Cas to be back kissing him, but instead he was glaring up into one of the corners and when Dean looked, sure enough, there was a security camera.

‘Fucking hate those things,’ Cas grumbled just as the elevator reached Cas’ floor and Cas was pulling Dean out of the box and into the small corridor.

Cas let go of his hand to root around in his coat pocket for his keys that Dean pressed against Cas and ghosting his lips over his neck, as the barista tried in vain to unlock the door.

Dean would be very pleased to say it took five tries for Cas to actually get the key in the lock.

‘I hate you,’ Cas mumbled as he fell in and Dean tried very hard indeed to close the door quietly but when the second it snicked shut, Cas jumped him, pressing him against the wood and kissed him, unable to decide if he wanted Dean’s shirt off or his jacket first.

Settling for his shirt because Dean shrugged off the jacket, it falling formless to begin the trail of clothes across Cas’ apartment.

Next was Dean’s shirt but not his tie because Cas insisted between kisses and bites that he wanted something close hand to tie Dean up if he was so inclined but that didn’t stop the knot of fabric coming loose and Cas said to fuck with it and threw away while Dean toed off his shoes and socks.

Cas stepped back to marvel his handy work, but not far enough to not be able to touch and Dean didn’t like he was the only one with skin exposed.

Dean motioned for Cas to step forward and scooped him up by the shoulders under his sweater and Cas got the idea, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck and legs around his waist, pushing off his shoes with his heels.

And rolling what he could of the pink thing, he pressed Cas to a wall and only stop kissing the man for the few seconds that it took to get the sweater off. Cas was really pale, noticed before his mouth was otherwise occupied with Cas’ tongue.

He bit Cas’ lip who whined but then the back end of it turned into a gasp when Dean used the wall for leverage and bent his head to lick and suck at Cas’ neck and shoulder and clavicle.

Cas bucked and Dean bucked back and then they were rutting into each other, chests flushed hard against with little room to get a decent breath. Mouths not kissing but brushing and sharing the little air they could, swallowing gasps and whines and the occasional moan.

Dean’s throat was dry as hell but he couldn’t care because Cas was hitting his hips with his own and he couldn’t think but this wasn’t how it was mean to end.

He kissed Cas, trying to get him to come back down a little, which didn’t work so he bit at Cas’ neck, bringing up more marks and whispering, ‘hey, did you want to fuck me?’

Cas’ eyes flicked open even with his breathing uneven and jumpy. ‘Oh yeah,’ he laughed, ‘Thanks for reminding me.’ He shoved at Dean’s shoulder. ‘Bed, come on.’

‘Bossy.’

‘You love it,’ Cas smirked and went back to kissing him, but slower this time and everything become more intense.

His bed was in between two windows and Dean turned them so they fall sideways but Cas quickly un wrapped himself and pushed at Dean to lie on his back before straddling his hips, looking down and stroking a hand from Dean’s neck to where his belt was keeping his pants still.

Cas clicked his tongue. ‘This has to go,’ he murmured, running a hand over the leather, tugging at it, the buckle clinking and pulling it free from the loops, throwing it to the floor. ‘These too,’ Cas said, shuffling down a little, sitting on Dean’s thighs and popping the confusing catch on Dean’s trousers.

Dean just watched and said nothing although felt a little awkward, unsure what to do with his hands. Cas unzipped his pants and moved to Dean’s side to pull them off and throw them away before wriggling out of his own lace shorts leaving both of them in their underwear.

And Cas’ were decidedly very much so not masculine.

Dean wouldn’t admit to it easily, but he did try on a pair of his girlfriend’s underwear back in high school after some persuasion and even then wouldn’t admit even to himself most days that he liked how they felt, but he had his reasons why he didn’t continue the practice; 1) back then, he was mostly straight and so a guy wearing girl’s underwear was weird as fuck and 2) they were really uncomfortable to wear for extended periods of time. Probably something to do with having a dick.

But on Cas it worked and Dean had a hard time not pulling Cas back on top so he could touch so he gave in.

They were pink floral satin, two panels each side under Cas’ protruding hip bones were criss-crossed stiff thread or something and what Dean found was amazing was that the knickers held Cas which was a feat in itself because Dean knew full well that Cas was hard.

‘Say something. I dare you.’

‘How the fuck do they fit you?’ Dean asked, running his fingers over the sides and along the top.

Cas laughed. ‘I’ve never been asked that,’ He commended. ‘They were made to.’

Dean raised an eyebrow. ‘You got someone to tailor you lingerie?’

‘The internet, I bought them off the internet. Along with the rest of my underwear,’ Cas explains.

‘So you didn’t wear these for me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself. I wear something like this every day.’

‘Fuck,’ Dean hissed because Cas wearing this because he liked it was too hot. 

‘Oh yeah,’ Cas chuckled, running his hands over Dean’s smooth torso, raising goose bumps with the cool beads and metal stips around Cas’ wrist, ‘that reminds me.’ And he ground his ass against Dean who grabbed his hips, pulling him into the friction.

‘Wanna fuck my ass, Dean?’ Cas asked. ‘Because I thought it was going to be the other way around.’

Dean had to stop and actually think about this. In the end he just let go of Cas’ hips and whispered, ‘Hurry up and fuck me before I fuck you,’ as he decided this wasn’t going to end at just one time.

He just hoped he was good enough of a fuck for Cas to think the same.

‘Good boy,’ Cas praised, running his nails under the elastic of Dean’s boxers.

Dean scowled at him. ‘Don’t patronize me, fuck me.’ He accentuated his point with a roll of his hips.

‘God, you’re worse than me,’ Cas complained, tapping Dean’s hip for him to lift them so Cas could pull his underwear past the swell of his ass and off his legs and fling them into a corner of the room so Dean couldn’t find them ever again and moving then on to get his own off.

‘You love it.’

Cas tutted, ‘Yeah, well we’ll see if you have such a smart mouth in a minute.’ And with that licked a stripe up the underside of Dean’s cock.

His breath caught in his throat and he was back on edge in a second. ‘Fuck,’ he spat and Cas’ mouth was sucking hard on just above his hip and then his inner thigh and then came around him and it had been a while.

Dean was trapped between wanting to close his eyes and just let go and probably come down Cas’ throat and keeping his eyes open and watching because he wanted to remember this for a very long time.

Cas tilted his head a little so he could watch Dean’s reaction and the choice became very easy.

But it wasn’t long lived.

Cas pulled off with a sticky pop and a thin string of spit hanging from his bottom lip which snapped when Cas’ wiped his mouth and grinned, his lips swollen and red.

‘Either keep going or screw me. I don’t care which just do something before I explode,’ Dean whined but Cas just kept smirking at him.

‘Oh Dean, so adorable when you beg.’

He flopped across him very unceremoniously, one arm scrambling a little where Dean couldn’t see.

‘Oof, Cas, what are you doing?’ Dean asked, voice muffled by Cas’ shoulder.

‘I need to get the lube, Dean,’ Cas huffed, pulling himself back to sitting with a bottle and a little silver packet. ‘Safe sex is good sex, right?’

Dean snorted. ‘Any sex is good sex. Hurry up.’

Cas looked at him. ‘Excuse you. Rape is not good sex.’

Dean nodded. ‘I see your point. Fuck me.’

‘Is there anything that will shut you up?’ Cas asked, lubing up a few fingers.

Dean huffed, exasperated and turned on, his cock leaking against his stomach. ‘Cas, I’m not kidding here. Please,’ he whines.

‘That’s what I wanted to hear.’ And there was a hand pushing at a thigh and a finger pressing at him, not hard enough to hurt but with enough pressure behind it to be weird.

It really had been a while.

‘Virgin?’ Cas asked, in to the second knuckle.

Dean shook his head, words failing him because there was the stretch and oh fuck it had been a while. He bit down on his lip, just sigh of hurting and Cas pushed in another finger.

And then curled them.

Dean’s moan was embarrassingly loud and he jerked, cock jumping and it was all thrumming through his blood, he was so pent up and Cas just kept curling his fingers up again and again and

‘OhmygodCasifdon’tfuckmerightnowbadfuckingthingswillhappensohelpme.’

Cas just laughed at him but wasted no time in whipping hand on the sheets, ripping open the condom, getting it on and smearing a little more lube before pushing in and oh.

Dean’s head tipped back.

‘Fuck, you are tight, are you sure you’ve been fucked before?’ Cas’ voice was just shreds, his finger nails digging into Dean’s hips.

Dean tried breathing but he just felt stuffed full.

‘Move.’ It came out like a croak. ‘Move,’ he said louder.

And that’s when it got a million times better.

Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’ tiny waist, as he rocked forward and stroked out, almost too slowly but the stretch and easing burn were sparking off nerve endings and caught in Dean’s throat.

‘Can I fuck you properly now?’ Cas asked and Dean would have swatted him if there wasn’t the un posed threat that this all might end right there. Instead he just nodded.

Cas’ hips snapped forward again and again and he was going to have bruises from where they pressed into his skin but he soon forgot that.

Cas had gotten the angle right.

And he got it right again and again and Dean was mindless.

He tried begging for faster and harder but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.

One of Dean’s hands pressed up against the headboard, the other fisted in the sheets as Cas kept fucking him and there was a hard rock up into him that brock through his throat and was very loud and Dean became a little self-conscious.

‘Dean, you can do better than that.’

‘Fuck, fuck, Cas, please.’

‘Please what?’

‘Don’t stop.’

Cas didn’t.

‘Come for me,’ he all but growled.

And Dean came.

He came biting his lip so hold back a scream because he couldn’t let Cas be right.

He came promising himself before everything whited out this wouldn’t be the last time.

Three more thrusts was all it took and Cas was spent too, going dead weight, his head over Dean’s heart.

It took a while for either of them to hear anything other than one another’s breathing or heartbeat.

They both winced when Cas pulled out, who then slipped off the condom, tied it off and clambered off the bed on fawn’s legs.

‘Where you going?’ Dean mumbled.

‘To throw this away and find my smokes,’ Cas called back.

He came back in, pulled on Dean’s boxers and padded out without a word or even looking up.

Dean lay in bed for a minute and a half feeling misplaced and a little used before getting up and looking for Cas.

He found him leaning on the fire escape, wind blowing away the smoke and raising goose bumps on Cas’ exposed skin. He didn’t look bothered by it.

‘You’re going to get pneumonia,’ Dean said quietly from his place near the door.

Cas took an unnecessarily deep drag and looked at the cigarette. ‘Yeah, well I’m also going to get lung cancer, but you don’t see me worrying.’

It hurt Dean to hear that.

He went back inside and retrieved his shirt from the floor but didn’t put it on.

Walking outside, the chill steel biting at his feet, he slipped it over Cas’ shoulders. ‘At least until you come back to bed,’ Dean murmured, running a hand down Cas’ arm and moving to go back inside.

Cas caught his wrist, snapping Dean back like a dog on a leash. Who turned and looked uncomprehending at an advancing Cas.

‘Wha-‘ and there was a mouth on his and a hand in his hair; the cold didn’t matter anymore.

He tasted like burnt Turkish Delight.

//

There was something warm and very skinny in his arms and his head wasn’t just swimming, it was the ocean, knocking about, all very chaotic.

Dean breathed in through his nose and was hit with the smell of whatever Cas put in his hair, sweat, rose soap, smoke and sex.

He nuzzled into Cas’ hair until it was up his nose and that was decidedly ticklish and Dean needed to sneeze.

He didn’t.

But he certainly started to feel the beginning bite of a headache. And a neck ache.

Maybe the post-coital fire escape interlude before bed wasn’t such a great idea.

Also his ass hurt a bit too.

He wanted to roll over and get out of bed and maybe have a shower and shake off this haze that was clinging to him but Cas rolled with him, snuggling closer and if Dean wasn’t so intent on getting up, then maybe he would have found some novelty in the situation.

‘Cas,’ he mumbled, shaking the man in his arms, who groaned at him and snuggled harder if that was possible.

‘Cas,’ Dean insisted a little louder this time and Cas just groaned which tapered off into

A yawn. He pulled a hand away from being laced with Dean’s and put it over his mouth.

‘Hello Dean,’ he grumbled and yawned again. ‘What time is it?’

‘No idea.’ Dean rubbed his head and the headache got worse. ‘Got any Aleve?’

‘Bathroom cupboard or the drawer.’

Dean heaved himself to tower over Cas, pulling out the drawer and rifling through it until his found the little box.

‘Thanks.’ He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry, the pills scratching as they went down and he regretted not finding a glass of water.

He lay there and let Cas use him as a pillow until he need to know the time became too great to stand. ‘What time is it?’

Cas mumbled and picking something off the nightstand, grumbled something that sounded like 6:20.

Dean needed to be at work by 8.

He got up and started collecting his clothes, bending down carefully each time, until he had a pile that was missing underwear which he couldn’t find any-

Cas.

Cas had fallen asleep again in the foetal position and when Dean poked him in the ribs he jerked, face scrunching.

‘Cas…Cas.’

‘Gowy.’

‘No. Cas, you’re wearing my boxers.’

Cas grumbled and opened his eyes again. ‘Wha d’you wan?’

‘My boxers.’

Cas squinted at him and rolled away. ‘Don ‘ave them.’

Dean groaned. ‘Yes, you do. Cas, wake up.’ He poked him again and Cas squirmed for a bit until he sat up and glared blearily at Dean.

‘What?’

‘Give me my boxers.’

‘I don’t have them.’

‘Cas, you’re wearing them.’

Cas smiled. ‘Oh yeah, I am.’ He pulled them off and offered them to Dean. ‘Happy Birthday.’

Cas was kinda adorable all sleep rumbled and decidedly not angsty or slightly bitchy. Dean liked sleepy Cas and he hoped he got to see more of it in future mornings.

‘Thanks.’ He pulled on his boxers.

Looking up, Cas was lying on his side, head propped up on an arm, eyes raking over what he could.

‘Enjoying the show?’ Dean asked, pulling on his shirt and doing the buttons, although much slower than normal.

Cas nodded. ‘Very much.’

Dean rolled his eyes and tugged on his trousers.

‘Dean, you are gay?’

He pouted, buckling his belt ‘I dunno. I’m bi I guess. You?’

Cas rolled onto his back. ‘Generally speaking I would say queer but if you are insisting on labelling like the rest of society,’ Cas drawled, ‘Pansexual.’

Dean looked at him a little blankly. He had heard the term but he never knew what it actually meant.

Cas got the message. ‘No it doesn’t mean I get off to eggs or bacon or the pan they get fried in any another household. I guess the best way to describe it is where I to put my hand down someone’s pants, I would be fine with whatever I find.’

Dean laughed and checked his tie in the bathroom mirror.

He pulled out his phone from his suit jacket pocket on the chair and checked the time. ‘Aren’t you getting up?’ Dean asked.

Cas was on his stomach, hands atop each other and under his chin. Dean resisted the urge to smack his ass. Instead he looked, up and down the pale expanse of Cas’ back. He smiled when he saw the wings, tattooed up on Cas’ shoulders, bent and curved with the muscles now being used. They were cartoony and pale pink and Dean half recognised them from some Saturday morning cartoon which was actually an anime which had something to do with cards.

Cas made a noncommittal noise. ‘One of the pleasures of being one’s own boss is you get to pick your own hours.’

‘I better go. I need to have a shower,’ Dean said.

‘You can shower here.’

‘I also need a clean shirt and tie and I can’t borrow yours because it will one, be vintage and two, be too small for me,’ Dean pointed out. ‘I’ll see you later?’

Cas lay back down and hugged a pillow as a poor analogue for Dean (in Dean’s mind anyway.) ‘Ahhmmmoh!’ he half sat up and waved a hand at Dean. ‘Gimme your phone.’

‘Why?’

‘Just gimme.’

Dean handed it over.

And after some tapping and fussing and a little swearing, Cas handed it back.

‘That thing is more complex than the Magna Carta.’

‘It’s a Blackberry? How is it difficult?’

Cas ignored him. ‘I gave you my number so you wouldn’t have to go through the awkwardness of asking for it, so you’re welcome.’ He curled back up.

Dean smiled and left.

//

He walked into Singer Corp ten minutes early with a Starbucks cup in his hand and a definite spring in his step. And a bit of a limp.

Which everyone noticed.

‘What’s up with you today, Dean?’ Garth asked, rolling around the corner on his chair.

Dean shuffled in his chair a little awkward and stopped typing.

‘And has it got anything to do with why you were so eager to get off last night?’ Becky pitched in, leaning over the top of Dean’s cubicle.

Dean reigned in his childish need to laugh.

‘No, nothing happened last night.’

‘Go to any bars?’ Becky.

‘Clubs?’ Garth.

‘Resturants?’ Becky.

‘And meet any women?’ Garth supplied.

‘Or men?’ Becky added.

Dean just laughed. ‘No. I had a night in on the couch.’

Of course his phone went off.

‘You gonna get that, Dean?’ Garth asked.

He rolled his eyes, but pulled the device out of his pocket.

The screen read one unread message.

Becky had come around to hovering over Dean’s shoulder. ‘You’re going to open it right?’

Dean made the mistake of opening it.

 

**From: Cas <333**

**i miss fucking ur sweet ass so much. when r u free? ily <3333 xx **

 

‘Who’s Cas?’

‘Oh my God, Dean, you have to tell us everything.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘What does he look like?

Luckily, Dean got another text saying he had an unscheduled meeting with Zach in five minutes.

He just hoped that it went until lunch so he wouldn’t get caught by the Spanish Inquisition.

//

He texted Cas half way through the meeting.

**From: you**

**I am going to kill you.**

 

The response was instantaneous.

 

**From: Cas <333 **

**;)**

 

//

Becky and Garth did find him.

And pestered him with questions

Which to Dean’s credit he ignored.

Mostly.

The general upshot of the entire conversation was Dean missed out on some Demon’s Blood and seeing Cas again because he was saying no to a pair of adults who obviously didn’t know the meaning of ‘no’.

//

He texted Cas after lunch.

 

**From: you**

**I would apologise for not being there but you should be blaming yourself**

**From: Cas <333**

**What did I do?**

**From: you**

**The text**

**From: Cas <333**

**And?**

**From: you**

**I got interrogated.**

**From: Cas <333**

**lol**

**From: you**

**I hate you**

**From: Cas <333**

**Well since you hate me so much you won’t want to come over tonight then**

**From: you**

**What did you have planned?**

**From: Cas <333**

**Dinner and a Swedish vampire movie**

**From: you**

**I’ll be there at 6**

//

Dean knocked on Cas’ door at 6:10.

He would have been on time or earlier but with his car at the shop getting fitted for a newer, less likely to shatter under general Seattle weather, he got a taxi. And then got stuck in Friday afternoon gridlock.

At least the driver had been nice and paused the meter while they were still.

Cas opened the door with a wooden spoon in his other hand and pink sauce on his face. He was wearing an oversized shirt shouting about some band Dean had never heard of tucked into a pair of high waisted shorts.

‘Do you even feel the cold?’ Dean asked, stepping in and taking off his coat, revealing the powder blue button down, no tie.

‘Hello to you too.’

Cas shut the door.

‘Give me five minutes. Pasta never cooks right for me.’

Dean nodded and Cas dashed back to the kitchen. Whatever Cas was cooking smelled good and the smell all through the modest one bedroom space.

Cas’ apartment wasn’t tidy but it wasn’t like college either but then again, Cas didn’t have to share the space.

Dean wouldn’t have minded living here. With Cas of course. They’d take turns cooking and doing the dishes. Also sex.

A bowl was being pressed into Dean’s hands.

‘Earth to monkey suit.’

Cas settled down on the couch and started fussing with the remote and accessing the hard drive sitting next to the screen.

‘No one uses DVDs anymore,’ Cas said. ‘Anyway, this way it’s free and easier to transport.

Dean had been meaning to watch the Let the Right One In ever since Jo had suggested it and he had always thought he’d watch it with her because Dean had liked her since he started at Singer Corp but it then it turned into just friends and Dean wasn’t watching the movie anymore.

What was he doing? With Cas.

Sure he liked him and his odd sense of dress and humor. He liked the Demon’s Blood Cas made him and he liked the way he was still sore.

He still didn’t know what he was doing there at the end of the movie.

He didn’t know where this was going or what it was now and then he decided that it didn’t matter.

‘What did you think?’

‘You’re not going to start a massive cinematic analysis are you?’

‘I could…’

‘Yes I liked the movie, no I don’t think the movie was an accurate expression of Sweden’s current political climate,’ Dean cut in. ‘Was that the right answer?’

Cas looked at him. ‘Dean, the movie was about vampires. How does that have anything to do with the political climate?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe some reference that all politicians are blood sucking monsters but we let them do what they want because they are reasonably nice to us?’

Cas smiled at him. ‘Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Your inner hipster is showing.’

Dean swatted him. ‘Shut up and kiss me.’

And Cas did.

Dean stayed over that night. Partly because leaving kind of ruins the afterglow, but mostly because he couldn’t walk a few steps without wincing.

//

Cas wasn’t there when he woke up.

Dean found him again on the fire escape in a pair of deep blue boyleg panties with pink lace trim and Dean’s button down, smoking.

There was no wind so the smell of smoke and rose was strong when Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ tiny waist.

‘You’re almost anorexic,’ Dean mumbled into Cas’ shoulder, fingers tracing over where he could feel Cas’ ribs and hips and he squirmed a little in Dean’s arms. ‘I’ve got bruises from your hips.’

‘Over active thyroid. And I thought you liked marks,’ Cas drawled, breathing out.

Dean hummed. ‘Hmm. I do. I’m just worried about you being so thin. Can’t be healthy.’

‘Why does it matter?’

That pinched at Dean and formed a pebble in his stomach he ignored it.

‘I worry about people I’m close to.’

‘Why?’

‘I just do.’

‘Well, you can stop worrying about me, I’m fine.’ Cas’ voice was tight and clipped. He breathed out one last time and dropped what was left of the cigarette.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean said after a few minutes.

Cas said nothing.

‘Can I have my shirt back?’

Cas slipped it off and passed it over without looking at Dean.

Dean went back inside.

//

The cab ride home he felt a little sick.

The pebble was now a stone.

When he got home he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed and was unconscious in seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam the lawyer makes everything better but then it gets worse

Dean was in his bed in his apartment and he was still feeling crappy.

He checked his phone. It was 12:36. No missed calls. No texts.

He got up and rubbing his eyes walked into the kitchen.

And there was someone in his kitchen.

He jumped back thinking it was Cas but even with his bleary eyes he could see that the hair was too brown and too long to be Cas’.

‘Sam, what the fuck are you doing here?’

Sam shrugged. ‘Do I need a reason to see my brother?’

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. ‘You kind of do, lawyer boy.’

‘Well, I don’t have one so suck it up.’

‘Did you at least bring coffee when you invaded my home?’

Sam nodded. ‘I didn’t invade, Dean, you gave me a key for here last time you saw me.’

‘Ah yeah, Sammy’s birthday,’ Dean smiled, picking up one of the cups next to his brother’s arm. ‘How is Jess anyway? She here?’

‘She’s fine and she’s at home. Pregnant.’ Sam sounded a little smug.

‘How many months?’

‘About three, three and a half now.’

‘Well congratulations, Sammy, you are now a daddy.’ Dean clapped him on the back before sitting down.

‘Not yet, but thanks.’

There were a few minutes of quiet.

‘So what are you actually doing here, Sam?’

‘Nothing. I wanted to visit and tell you about the baby.’

‘Sam, all my life I have known you and you are still the crappiest liar,’ Dean admonished. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I was just….concerned.’

‘About what?’ And the pieces fit. ‘Oh God- Who told you?’

‘Dean what-‘ Sam started.

‘Who told you about Cas? Becky or Garth?’

‘I don-‘

‘Becky or Garth? Come on this is easy. Becky or-‘

‘Becky,’ Sam admitted.

Dean hit the table. ‘Dammit.’

‘So who is he?’

‘Oh freaking hell, Sam why the fuck does it matter?’

‘Dean, it matters because you’re freaking out. What’s going on? Who is he?’

Dean sighed. ‘You know the Starbucks riots recently? Well there was one near work and I needed coffee and there was this little café nearby and Cas runs it.’

‘So…um…ok. What happened?’

Dean shrugged. ‘I went every day and he asked me out for a drink and we went and had a drink and then- I went back to his place.’

‘And?’

Dean looked at his brother. ‘Sam, I’m trying to spare your head here. What do you want me to say?’

‘I’m just trying to get a pictu-‘

‘There was a dick in an ass, alright!’

Sam swallowed. ‘Ok. Did anything else happen?’

Dean was mostly pissed off that one of his supposed “friends” actually called his freaking brother for Christ sake.

‘Well?’

‘No. I mean yes. I went around to his last night. And stayed the night.’

Sam nodded. ‘Then?’

Dean opened his mouth for a bit, no words coming out and so he tried again. ‘I woke up and he wasn’t there. He was smoking on the fire escape and I said something and there was a moment.’

‘I’m guessing this wasn’t a ‘three little words’ moment, right?’

Dean breathed in and out. ‘It was more of a ‘Dean opened his mouth and said the wrong thing’ moment.’

‘What did you say?’ Sam asked.

‘I said he was anorexic. But I meant it like I was worried because I am.’

Something softened in Sam’s eyes. ‘And what?’

‘I dunno, he went all quiet and then I left.’

‘And came home and sulked?’ 

‘I don’t sulk,’ Dean pouted.

Sam smiled. ‘You really like him don’t you?’

‘What are you talking about? Of course I like him. Do you think I would have let him fuck my ass twice if I didn’t?’ Dean exclaimed.

Sam scrunched up his face. ‘Dude. TMI.’

‘Whatever. You asked the question.’

‘That’s not what I meant, Dean!’

‘Then enlighten me, what did you mean?’

Sam sighed. ‘I mean you really like him. Like, like like.’

‘Like like? What are you? In 5th grade?’

‘You know what I mean.’

Dean shrugged. ‘I dunno, OK?’

Sam nodded and there was quiet.

‘Do you know if the café is open today?’ Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

‘Do you wanna see him?’

Dean nodded.

‘Do you want me to come with?’

Dean nodded.

//

They caught a cab to Pike and walked the rest of the way, Sam walking behind Dean a few paces.

The chalk board had changed. Cas made cherry pie and a small smile pulled at Dean’s lips.

Gabriel (wearing a thick plaid shirt in black and red, his jeans rolled up around his ankles and looked like a lumberjack) and Anna (in an oversized denim blue button down with a belt around her waist and light brown boots) were in and for good reason. Cas must have known that Saturdays were busy.

Sam was smiling at the two of them and Gabriel smiled back but Dean only had eyes for Cas (blue floral shirt with studs on the collar and a red bow tie).

Cas was plating up a slice of the advertised pie when he noticed Dean and he smiled and the stone in Dean’s gut lifted a couple inches.

‘Hey, Cas.’

‘Afternoon Monkeysuit. And Gigantor?’ the look in Cas’ eyes was confused and a little hurt.

And Dean understood it. 

‘Cas, this is my brother, Sam. The lawyer.’ And the dimness lifted from Cas like a storm leaving a patch of sea.

Dean wanted to ask the universe why he had been given a brother that looked very little like him. He had lost count the number of times people had mistaken them for being together.

‘Hello, Sam. Castiel.’ He held out a hand, after wiping them on a tea towel, ‘Dean’s told me a lot about you.’

Sam shook Cas’ hand. ‘Likewise.’

‘So are you raving about Demon’s Blood to people interstate now?’ Cas asked, turning to Dean. Sam just looked confused.

‘Demon’s Blood?’

‘It’s Cas’ speciality,’ Dean explained. ‘He got me hooked.’

‘It’s Rooibos and vanilla with guarana,’ Cas adds. 

‘Two please and a slice of pie,’ Dean smiled and Cas nodded.

Sam and Dean sat down at Dean’s usual table.

‘I think you’re OK,’ Sam said.

Dean nodded a few times, still smiling. ‘I think so too.’

//

Sam stayed in town for a few days and got along with Cas better than Dean expected; they swapped recipes (because Sam was a vegetarian now) and stories. And no, Dean wasn’t jealous that Cas was a little more comfortable talking about family with Sam than him, no, not at all.

Although probably the most rewarding thing about Sam spending time with Cas was his reaction to his non gender conforming outfits.

The best one was Cas forcing the brothers to join him on a jaunt to a Queer Arts Festival the very day Sam went back and Cas was wearing thigh high stockings and suspenders under short shorts and another oversized, unknown band shirt.

But for Dean the best bit was when they got back from the airport, Cas fucked him on the sofa stilling wearing them. Twice. And didn’t let Dean come until he was screaming.

//

The for the next month, seeing Cas became part of Dean’s life, sometimes during lunch hour but always after work.

They cooked and watched movies and had plenty of sex.

Dean’s apartment became a nice looking storage locker until there was a string a days where Dean insisted Cas sleep at Dean’s place for once and so Cas had to wear some of Dean’s clothes to work, not that Dean minded.

When they moved back to Cas’ apartment, at which point Dean was given a key to, Cas forced Dean to choose a pair of his underwear and then dared him to wear them to work one day. Turned out he had meetings throughout the day because of his prospective promotion and it didn’t inspire confidence with how much he was squirming. 

Cas helped Dean pick out a Secret Santa for Ruby who was pretty much Dean’s arch-nemesis at the office but his present was bearable.

They spent a very low key Christmas together; no tree, no big feast or family, just a walk along the snow lined river, dinner, swapping presents, (Dean got Cas an ugly sweater because that’s what every festive hipster wants and Cas got Dean a pair of little pentagram cufflinks) and sex. (Cas insisted on wearing his Santa hat.)

//

‘So what’s going on with you and Cas?’ Becky asked, trying to look like she was working but was probably writing fan fiction for a modern adaption of Sherlock Holmes that she had just discovered.

It was about a week after New Year’s which Cas and he had almost missed. They played board games and which ended up being strip chess and Cas won. Then someone’s watch went off and they drank champagne and made out on the sofa until they fell asleep.

‘Yeah,’ Garth egged on, ‘I see it isn’t Facebook official yet. It’s been a month.’

Dean looked at both of them incredulously. ‘Exactly. It’s only been a month. And Cas doesn’t have Facebook.’

‘Oh my God, are you arguing? Did you have a fight?’ Becky fretted.

Dean ignored her.

Garth made a face. ‘I think they did,’ he stage whispered and Dean wanted to slap the both of them.

‘Both of you, shut up. Me and Cas are fine.’

‘What are you and Cas?’ Garth asked.

Dean did answer out loud because he didn’t have an answer at all.

//

‘Cas, what are we?’ Dean asked.

Cas took a draw of his post-sex coital cigarette, a practise which he followed religiously although where he smoked it didn’t matter apparently because now Cas smoked in bed, and snorted. ‘Are we human or are we dancer?’

‘Cas, I’m being serious.’

‘So am I,’ Cas pressed, turning to face Dean.

Dean sighed. ‘What are we doing, Cas? And I don’t mean right this minute I mean just generally. What are we?’

Dean couldn’t decipher Cas’ expression and it wasn’t because he was lying on his side.

‘Why does it matter?’ Cas replied, blowing out a stream of smoke and stretching his arm to butt out the cigarette in a tea cup that had been put there for the task, and Dean heard the rising edge in Cas’ tone. ‘Why are you trying to label it?’

Dean sighed. ‘I’m not trying to label it, Cas, I just want to know what we are doing.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Dean chewed his bottom lip. ‘How do you feel about me, Cas?’

He got silence. 

‘Well, I care about you and I like spending time with you,’ Dean said, holding Cas’ eyes which were swimming with so much that Dean couldn’t chase the emotions as they flickered through his eyes.

He got more silence.

‘G’night, Cas.’ 

//

Dean got up earlier than normal, got dressed and crept out.

//

He hated himself the entire day.

He didn’t leave the office at lunch and instead listened to Garth and Becky go on about some episode of Doctor Who that they were going to force him to watch even if it meant strapping him to the sofa.

//

Dean drove slowly past the café, almost wishing he saw Cas smoking on the curb but he wasn’t there and the door was shut.

He went home and made a sandwich for dinner because making something from scratchor even just reheating something from the fridge felt like too much work for the amount of Dean had.

He stared at his phone as if that would make it ring.

He gave in and sent a text.

**From: you**

**Hey sorry for dashing off this morning. Can I come over?**

After half an hour he called but it went to voicemail.

He sent another couple texts and called about three times more.

Dean felt that stone in his gut turn into a rock as he grabbed his coat and ran to the elevator, taking the first cab to Cas’ house.

//

He knocked on the door.

‘Cas, are you in?’

No reply.

‘Cas?’

Nothing.

He pulled out the key and let himself in.

‘Cas?’ he called again, peering in every room and growing more and more worried at the absence. 

He tried looking for a note but there wasn’t one of them ether.

//

Dean tried calling Cas’ phone a few more times and sent off more texts than he can count.

After two days Dean wants to do the right thing and report him missing but when he comes back…

If he comes back.

He cracks and picks up the phone.

‘Sam Winchester speaking.’

‘Sam! Oh God, Sam you gotta help me?’

‘Dean what have you done?’ Sam’s voice is tight.

‘I’ve done nothing, it’s Cas.’

‘Dean calm down and tell me what happened.’

Dean takes a deep breath.

‘I tried talking about stuff with him last night and now he’s missing.’

‘Wait what? Have you called the police?’

‘No. Not yet anyway.’

‘Alright then,’ Sam seemed to calm down a little. ‘What were you tal- trying to talk about?’

‘Your kinda stuff.’ Dean said and Dean could feel Sam’s raised eyebrows through the phone.

‘My kinda stuff?’

‘You know, feelings and crap.’

Sam laughs.

‘This isn’t funny, Sam!’ Dean hissed.

‘I’m not saying it is.’

‘Then don’t laugh!’

‘I’m not laughing, Dean.’

Dean groaned. ‘Why is it so fucking shocking to you?’

‘Look, I don’t matter right now. Do you have any idea where he’s gone’?’

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘No. No clue.’

‘My advice? Wait. Seriously, Dean. Don’t go off and do something dumb, just wait.’

Dean nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘You going to be OK?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Call me if something happens, OK?’

Dean kept nodding even though Sam couldn’t see him. ‘Yeah. Bye, Sammy.’

//

Dean waited a week before what was effectively breaking into Cas’ apartment.

An entire week of worrying and hating himself and no sleep.

And there Cas was.

Cas was sleeping curled up in a ball in bed.

Dean wanted to scream.

Instead he stood in the doorway.

He walked in and prodded Cas hard in his still visible ribs.

Cas squirmed but didn’t wake so Dean did it again and harder.

Cas groaned and opened his eyes. ‘What?’ 

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Dean growled.

Cas rubbed at his eyes, propping himself up on and elbow and looking at the source of the noise. ‘Dean, wha-‘

‘Answer the question, Cas, where were you?’

‘Traveling.’

‘Where?’

‘My travels are my travels.’

‘Cas where the fuck did you go?’

‘Oh fuck you, Dean, you’re not the boss of me,’ Cas groans, sitting up, the sheets pooling around his hips.

‘Yeah? Well I was worried sick about you. Why the hell did you go anyway?’

‘One, you need to stop worrying so much and two, because I needed to get away.’

Dean stared at him. ‘Stop worrying?’ he made a face. ‘I can’t, Cas.’

‘And why not?’ 

‘Because that’s what happens when you care about someone! You worry when they don’t answer their phone or when you go around to their place and they aren’t fucking there! What the fuck was I meant to think?’

‘Dean, you know I go place-‘

‘You could have told me. And what was this that you needed to get away from?’

Cas looks around the room, as if looking for some else to speak. ‘You.’

And Dean wants to cry.

‘Me?’ his voice cracked on the word three times alone. ‘Me?’ He all but shouts.

‘Yes.’ Cas sounded like he was holding back a sob himself.

‘Why?’

‘Why does it matter?’ Cas’ voice broke and crackled and sounded rough in its almost scream. ‘Why does any of this matter? You don’t own me, Dean.’

And Dean didn’t want to say it because he doesn’t want to sound like a girl but

‘You own me.’

His voice was small and he was a hair’s width from saying it. The big it. Dean could count on one hand how many people he’d said it to.

But the moment had passed them.

‘You own me, Cas. You have for a while now.’

Cas’ jaw clenched. ‘No. Just-‘ he sighed, not looking at Dean. ‘Go. Give me my key and go.’

Dean couldn’t breathe.

‘No.’

‘Dean, get out of my house.’

‘Our!’ Dean yelled, ‘Our house!’

‘It’s mine, Dean. Leave.’

Dean groaned. He was sick of Cas being gone and not returning his calls or hating when someone cared about him or  
Or

Or loved him. 

Because Dean did and that was a scary thought and he didn’t want to really just be standing there like an idiot working out his feelings so in seconds he had his hands in Cas’ hair, tugging him up to kiss him.  
Cas fought it because he didn’t want to kiss Dean but then it wasn’t a kiss and they were biting at each other and Dean knew his mouth was swollen when he went to Cas’ neck, sucking at the hickeys that had faded and bring up new ones. 

‘Mine,’ he was whispering and Cas was physically torn between pulling Dean closer and pushing him away and Dean smiled against his collarbone, feeling Cas’ bitten-nailed fingers digging into his shoulders.  
‘I’m not yours,’ Cas insisted weakly and Dean shoved at him to move, pushing back on the bed and kissing down his chest, running his fingers over Cas’ nipples, girly pink against the rest of him and Cas was sighing.

‘Yes you are.’

‘No, I’m not, I’m no ones,’ Cas hissed; Dean was biting at Cas’ jutting hipbones.

‘I can prove it.’

A ghost of his usual smile quirked Cas’ lips, wet and red. ‘I doubt it but like I’m going to let the opportunity pass.’

‘You should not be able to talk. Over,’ Dean demanded, though in a low voice, tapping Cas’ thigh and Cas obliged, his arms crossed under his chin like he was expecting a massage.

So Dean gave him one, a rough and mostly scratching one which left Cas sighing and his back arching against Dean’s fingers.

He ran a nail down Cas’ spine and Cas inhaled sharply, throat curving up and Dean hoped he did that while he was fucking him so he could wrap a hand around it and a squeeze, just a little, just enough to have Cas scrambling.

Dean’s cock throbbed in his jeans.

Which he was still wearing.

‘You are wearing way too much,’ Cas breathes out, rocking his ass back to make a point, grinding against Dean, who had to close his eyes and fight how much he wanted to latch his hands onto Cas’ hips and get off that way.

But that wasn’t the idea.

He was tugging off his shirt and going for his belt when Cas spoke up again. 

‘Are you going to fuck me or what, Winchester?’ He hitched his knees under him and shimmed a little.

Dean slapped his ass.

Cas chuckled. ‘Kinky.’

Dean rolled his eyes and shucked his jeans, dropping them to the floor.

‘You know what, Cas,’ Dean said, leaning over and rooting through Cas’ nightstand for the lube, the bottle was, which Dean would have been proud to say, about three quarters empty, ‘I’m a little conflicted.’

‘Over what?’

‘If I should go slow, stretch you open until you’re begging for it, begging to come, and even then I’ll take my time,’ Dean answered, casual as reading a menu, slicking his fingers, ‘make you come untouched.’

‘What’s the other option?’ Cas choked out as Dean teased before pressing in with a finger.

He waited for a few beats before replying, stroking inside Cas and waiting for him to relax before he turns one finger into two.

‘Or I could fuck you like you deserve.’ He curled his fingers and Cas jerked, a groan bitten off half way. ‘Fuck you so hard the next time you leave you’ll still be able to feel me. And you’ll wish that you aren’t on the plane or the bus, but with me, fucking you into the mattress. It makes no difference to me, Cas.’

‘Fuck me,’ Cas spat out. His hips were are pressing back in greedy little pushes and Dean could tell he loves it, acting the slut, because Dean loved to play the slut too.

‘Virgin?’ Dean teases, adding a third.

‘Fuck off.’ The back half of the words are a yelp because Dean crooked his fingers.

Dean chuckles. ‘Adorable.’

‘Winchester, I am half tempted to kick you in the face right now.’

‘But you won’t.’ Dean slipped his fingers out and Cas sighed.

‘Fuck me.’ Cas’ voice was level but only on the surface; Dean could still hear the tremors through his, feel the reverb in his hips. He stroked over Cas’ pale thighs.

‘You are gorgeous, you know,’ he murmured, hands running over the swell of Cas’ ass and back up.  
‘So I’m told.’

He had that clipped tone again and Dean didn’t like it. It made his stomach churn.

‘You are though. So beautiful, Cas.’

‘Are you going to fuck me?’

It was still there, the tone and Dean wanted to cry.

He pressed into Cas, agonisingly slow and both of them couldn’t breathe for a few seconds.

‘Fuck, if you don’t move,’ Cas groaned, trying to get his arms right in supporting himself.

Dean got the idea.

It was slow. All of it. Dean wanted Cas to remember this if anything. He had probably been fucked into whatever bed he was in so many times, not a thought, Dean really wanted o linger on but he doubted anyone took the time to actually hear the noise he made and how he felt all stretched open and the way his hands scrabbled for something to clutch.

It was a gorgeous thing to see and Cas was hot and tight and Dean knew there would be bruises on his hips tomorrow. But that’s OK, because Cas liked marks.

Cas was pushing back, like had been when Dean was opening him up with his fingers, and tilting his head up, neck stretched, the wings tattooed up on his back crinkled and Dean wished for a moment that Cas had wings that he could grab onto.

Dean pressed his front to Cas’ back, one arm wrapping around Cas’ skinny torso, five fingers splayed possessive over his chest and the other moved to lock their fingers.

‘You’re mine,’ he whispered, almost a growl and pressed up with his arm.

It took a couple shoved but Cas got the message and then he was all spread thighs and blush mottled skin that Dean could see.

The hand not interwined with Dean’s went back into his hair and Dean pressed kisses to Cas’ shoulder and neck, rolling his hips and Cas was biting his lip but even that couldn’t stop his near constant moaning from slipping out.

‘Come on, Cas, scream for me,’ Dean teased with a hard thrust.

‘Give it to me Dean, all of it. Fuck me, use me, fucking God, I’m yours, I’m yours just fuck me please.’

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

After briefly considering, with the few brain cell that weren’t occupied with Cas, jerking Cas off but he remembered what he promised and Cas was going to come on his cock.  
Cas did.

And Dean came too, biting down on Cas’ still shaking shoulder and he whined softly.

Cas moved and Dean slipped himself out.

Cas opened the drawer and pulled out a red packet of cigarettes and box of matches, picking up a stray jumper and leaving Dean alone again.

Dean didn’t wait this time before following, grabbing his coat and wrapping himself up against the cold he knew that would be waiting.

Of course, Cas was on the fire escape.

‘Why did you go?’ Dean asked from the door way.

Cas’ jumper was periwinkle blue and so large it covered his ass as he stood against the railing, the sleeves falling down when he rested his elbows against it.  
‘When?’ Cas asked back, ‘just now or-‘

‘The past week, Cas.’

Cas looked down. ‘I needed to get my head straight. OK? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I needed some time to think.’  
‘Think about what?’

‘You. Me. Life. Everything.’

‘Cas you’re making no sense.’

Cas turned around on his heels, his toes wriggling against the cold and he threw the cigarette away, little glowing end lost in the darkness. ‘I needed time to think about how I feel. That’s what you asked me isn’t it? How I felt.’ 

Dean nodded. ‘And?’

Cas opened his mouth but he closed it again just as fast. He looked around and at the floor and couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

‘No one actually cares about me, Dean. No one ever has. My dad had no self control, ended up with more kids than he could handle, I wasn’t important. I never have been. No one cares about me and I don’t think they shouldn’t. They’ve got to reason to.’

‘I’ve got a reason.’

‘No you don’t. You think you do, you think you love me but I’m not this quirky guy who runs a café and wears pretty underwear and ugly sweaters and smokes like a train. You love the idea of me. Not me.’  
Dean didn’t know what to say to that and he kinda hated Cas a little for taking away any gravity in saying…those words.

‘I’m not whole; I’m broken and everyone that has ever met me knows it.’

‘I didn’t.’

Cas’ eyes hardened. ‘Why are you so intent on contradicting me?’

‘Because I love you!’

His jaw clenched the moment he said it. Dean hadn’t meant for the words to come out so easy.

But he didn’t know why they needed to get stuck in his throat every time up until then.

‘Really?’ Cas sounded judging, but a little hopeful too.

So Dean moved closer and stroking a hand down Cas’ face and down his neck before going up again and pushing lightly at his jaw, tipping it up.

And Cas did.

Dean kissed the column of his throat and the edges of his collar bones and the sides of his neck, all the while whispering, ‘You can say it.’

Cas angled his head down and pulled Dean up by the hair to kiss him furiously.

‘Say it,’ Dean mumbled when he could.

Cas gasped something out.

‘Louder,’ Dean growled.

The words became a whisper as Cas tugged at Dean who clambered on top of him, never breaking the kiss.

‘Louder.’ Dean bit as Cas’ mouth.

‘I love you.’

They rang in Dean’s ears.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you. I love you. I-‘And Dean kissed him until they couldn’t breathe.

He expected fireworks; his heart feeling like it was going to explode but he wouldn’t care because he had Cas and that was all that would ever matter.

Instead he got peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took forever because I went all weird writing sex and so I cheated a bit (read; a lot) and I'm sorry if the ending feels rushed because it was and that when the brothers talk it's just dialog but that's how I saw their conversations when they are on the same side.
> 
> Thank to everyone who read or cared or anything to do with this, I think you are great so :*
> 
> x


End file.
